Phantom Lovely
by Scarlett Masquerade
Summary: Sweeney was not killed by Toby on that fateful night, but Nellie lies in ashes at the bottom of her oven. A mysterious voice revives her and gives her the chance for revenge on Todd as a ghost only he can see.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Sweeney looked with a sort of perverse pleasure at the grey smoke that was the only remains of his landlady. He reveled in the pure joy of a kill for a moment, before he remembered the reason he'd killed Nellie Lovett in the first place. His dark, haunted eyes wandered over to his wife's still form, dead by his own hand, and his first tear since his rebirth as Sweeney Todd wriggled down his cheek.

He cradled Lucy's head in his arms, the deep cut across her neck glaring at him like a reproach. His tears fell onto her face until it looked like the dead woman was crying herself. Oh, if only she could...

But look on the bright side, he told himself, although that's not your strong point. Nellie is dead. She won't ever chatter incessantly or sneak a kiss or look at you with that idiotic doe-eyed look ever again. A smile graced the demon barber's lips as he laid Lucy tenderly on the stone floor and meandered back up to his barber shop, tucking his dead wife into that little box in his mind where all terrible things were locked away.

But what would he tell Nellie's many friends? _Oh, God,_ _please don't tell me I'll actually have to pretend to grieve for that liar!, _he thought, but it seemed the only way not to arouse suspicion. And what would he do with his victims? Clearly he had not thought this plan through.

_Nellie_

The agony surging through Nellie by the flames slowly faded from her body and anger took its place. How dare he! After all she's done for him, after cutting up his bloody customers and baking them into pies to hide his crimes, after making his dinners and yes, even _loving_ him, how could he just throw her into an oven?! She was seething so furiously that it took her a few minutes to even figure out that it was kinda strange for her to be thinking at all. Shouldn't she be dead by now?

"Ah yes, you should and you arrrre," hissed a sibilant voice, one that was vaguely familiar in a distorted sort of way. Certainly there had never been a human voice like this. Nellie tried to see through the blank darkness fruitlessly for the source of the voice. "But you are going to have a chanccce... To give Mister Sweeney Todd his" -there was an evil chuckle- "shall we say...rewarrrd? He has done you a great wrong, Nellie Lovett, and you are going to make him pay." Nellie was delighted. Her love for Sweeney seemed to, for once, have been put away.

"But how? I'm dead," she said matter-of-factly. "What, 'm I gonna be a ghost or somethin'?"

"That's exactly it," said the voice, "and feel free to do whatever you please. You will only be seen by him."

The darkness dissolved, the basement walls taking its place. Nellie got up from her perch on the edge of the oven, brushed her dress off briskly, and strode upstairs. Sweeney thought he knew about revenge? He had no idea.

_I am a stupidhead. I accidentally uploaded the whole freaking story last time. Sorry 'bout that. So here's JUST the prologue. :D_


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Sweeney paced around his shop, caressing one of his razors and wondering how to summon up some sadness for Toby when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. _Ah, that'll be him now, _he thought vaguely and put down the razor. He had already cleaned up and now his biggest problem was the boy.

Why didn't he just kill the boy? But he knew why. Strange as it may seem, after accomplishing his purpose in returning to London and simultaneously destroying what remained of his life, the demon barber felt averse to killing. He had to laugh at himself. Him, averse to killing? No, just to killing innocents. Most of London's residents still most definitely deserved to die. But still, how strange. He fondled the razor that seemed to have lost some of its shine after taking the life of his Lucy.

"Mista Todd, where's Mrs. Lovett?" Toby asked upon bursting in, his voice full of suspicion. Sweeney turned around, thinking of his dead wife to bring a tear to his eye. He walked over to Toby and placed a hand on his scrawny shoulder.

"Toby..." he began. Toby looked scared.

"What? What happened? If you've done anythin' I'll.."

"I didn't do anything. I went downstairs to the bakehouse and she was leaning over to put some pies in the oven..." Sweeney sniffed for effect. "And she tripped and fell in." At this both Toby and Sweeney burst into sobs, but a malicious and triumphant smile lurked under Sweeney's tears.

A rustle of fabric jerked him rudely from his thoughts. He turned, wondering if his insanity had finally begun to manifest itself in a more traditional form-- and stopped dead. A white face framed by messy red curls flashed in his vision. He stared in a mixture of wonder and horror.

"Nell-" he stared, then shook his head. Toby stopped crying and turned around. The boy didn't seem to see anything.

"Mista Todd, what are you lookin' at?" Toby asked curiously. How could he not see her? Even as Sweeney watched, Nellie walked over to Toby and stroked his hair tenderly, a sad smile on her face. "Mista Todd..."

"Don't you see her?" gasped Sweeney. Toby looked at Sweeney strangely.

"See who, Mista Todd?" he asked. Nellie looked up from the boy and grinned at Sweeney poisonously. "Are you all right?" Sweeney made frantic little shooing motions with his hands.

"Go, go, go _away..._" he muttered desperately, and it was unclear whether he was speaking to Toby or Nellie. Toby departed hastily, not wanting to incur one of Sweeney's violent rages. Sweeney blinked, and Nellie was gone.

_Nellie_

"Good, good," hissed that strange voice. "Start small, now... Don't you want to make this slow and sweet, my darling?" Nellie grinned at the terror she was causing her murderer. She let her form vanish and had to hold back a laugh at the pure panic on Sweeney's face. _This is fun, _she thought, _but __when can I do more? _

"Sooonnnn, my darling, sooonnnn."

_Sweeney_

Sweeney massaged his temples slowly and tried to calm his emotions.

"You did not just see Nellie Lovett," he said to the empty room. "Nellie Lovett is dead and your mental instability is finally starting to affect you in a new and unexpected way." The room seemed to shake with silent laughter. "Oh, shut up," he told it. He sat down in his barbering chair, waiting and wishing for the morning.

Sweeney didn't realize that he had fallen asleep until a knock came sharply at his door. He jumped up in alarm, trying to straighten his clothes and make it look like he hadn't just been asleep.

"Come in," he called professionally. One of Nellie's friends, Coraline, swooped in, her eyes red.

"Oh, you poor dear, how perfectly _awful _it must be for you. Your boy Toby just told me all about it. Poor, poor Nellie. You mustn't blame yourself now, dear. It wasn't anyone's fault." _If only you knew, _Sweeney thought, but managed to sadden his face appropriately.

"If only I'd been down there... I just know I could have prevented this from happening..." he said, struggling to suppress a smile. Coraline obviously took his trembling lips for a man trying not to cry, and she took his arm sympathetically.

"Don't you worry one bit, Mister Todd, I'll be back in a tick!"

Fifteen minutes later, Sweeney was surrounded in food, flowers, and sympathy gifts. He grinned. Who cared if he was insane? Who cared if he suddenly had simpering, inane women doting on him? All it took was his lovesick landlady dying and suddenly he was a rich man!


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

It had been a week since his landlady's unfortunate death, long enough, Sweeney decided, to reopen the barber shop. So on September 17, the glass door sported a proud "Open" sign and so far, business was going strong. Sweeney had decided that killing his customers was inconvenient for the time being, which was quite frustrating, as it turned out. But there had been no Nellie sightings yet, so Sweeney counted it as a good day.

"Good morning, sir!" he greeted his next customer, a fat balding man shaped rather like a potato. "How may I service you today?" The man sat down with a nasty creaking noise and undid his tie.

"Jus' a shave," he mumbled, leaning back and closing his eyes. Oh, how perfect he would have been for a pie! But, alas, Sweeney was forced to run his shining razor over the fat neck without doing any harm. But he couldn't resist from nicking the man a tiny bit. The single red bead of blood was enough to send shivers of longing so strongly through him that his vision blurred.

Sweeney groaned as his customer began to snore loudly. What he wouldn't give to be able to spill _all _of his radiant rubies!

"You miss it, dontcha, dearie," came a highly familiar voice from the corner of the room. "I can understan' that. Can't say I miss makin' them pies, though. This 'un would've been particularly squishy." Sweeney looked up in dread. Mrs. Lovett stood, casual as you please, in the corner by the chest that had once held Pirelli's body. She examined her nails nonchalantly, then looked up.

"Surprised to see me, are ya, love?" She laughed. "Yeah, well, I'm surprised to be here, frankly. Sure I woulda been burnin' still, 'cept in a different place." She gestured towards the floor while Sweeney made an incoherent gurgling sound, his hand frozen in mid-swipe.

"Lookin' kinda pale, dearie..." His lips moved soundlessly.

"You...you're dead. I burned you up, I burned you, you're dead, why aren't you DEAD!" Sweeney launched himself at the tall, slim figure, razor held in front of him like a sword. He slammed into the wall with a tremendous crash. Nellie was gone.

Sweeney looked down on the rubies that spilled over his hands blankly, wondering why his head hurt so much. The razor was stuck firmly in the wall, and the last thing he heard before falling unconscious was his customer calling "Huh? Wha'? 'Ey, woss goin' on?"

"Nellie," he moaned upon waking. His eyes slowly focused on Coraline's fat face. A cold cloth was dripping icy water down his face and from under it came a low throbbing pain. Coraline had been a good friend of Nellie's who had taken it upon herself to help Sweeney through his "grief." His customer was nowhere to be seen. Presumably, Coraline had escorted him out.

"No, darling, Nellie's dead," Coraline said soothingly. "Remember? I giss you tripped or somethin'. That's a big bump on yer 'ead, there. You feel all right?" Sweeney sat up slowly, brushing Coraline's hand away impatiently.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, but didn't you--" Suddenly he thought better of mentioning his little visions to Coraline. For all he knew, he could end up in the asylum. "Never mind. I'm fine, you can go now." Coraline obeyed, casting a worried glance at Sweeney.

_Nellie_

_Ooh, I got 'im good, didn't I? _thought Nellie to her voice.

"Yes, you did very well, my dear." Nellie laughed again.

_Didja see the look on his face? Hah! He won't be gettin' over _me_ anytime soon. _Her thoughts were gleeful. The voice chuckled softly.

"No, darling," then in a quieter voice, "neither of us shall be forgotten."

_Hmm? What was that?_ thought Nellie absently.

"Nothing, nothingggg..."


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

_Nellie_

Having finally warded off the many concerned women, Nellie watched Sweeney lay in bed, exhausted. He had barely undressed (while, of _course, _Nellie had given him his privacy) when he collapsed on the bed, dead to the world.

Unseen in the corner, Nellie gazed at his sleeping form. Although she would never admit it to anyone, least of all herself, she kind of missed Sweeney. There had been moments where she felt sure that he shared her feelings. But, then again, she had also been sure that they could have a life together, and look how that turned out!

"Never mind that, my pet," said her Voice. "He was not what you thought he was. He slighted you. Now he will pay." Nellie sighed, most of the statement having gone completely over her head.. Only Sweeney had ever called her "pet..."

A noise from the barber attracted her attention. He was stirring feebly in his sleep, lips spilling incoherent sounds. Was he having a nightmare?

_Sweeney_

It started out like most of his nightmares: a replay of his arrest, Lucy's terror-stricken face lingering in his mind. He hardly even blinked an eye at this; he'd relived it so many times that by now it hardly had any effect. But then Lucy's face paled, her hair darkened and curled, and flames began to lick at its edges. Nellie screamed, hands held out beseechingly from the fire of the oven. Sweeney stood there, this time wanting to help but unable to. The flames consumed her until nothing remained except for wispy grey smoke and ashes that swirled like snowflakes...

The smoke and ashes began to coalesce, forming into a shadow of the familiar baker. Not even a shadow- a reflection, an inversion, something barely Nellie at all. She had a fierce, vengeful look on her face, an expression that had twisted his own features many times, but never Nellie's.

"How dare you. I did so much for you. This is how you thank me?" Her voice was not angry, not loud with the boiling anger that consumed him on a daily basis. It was deathly cold and eerily calm, a monotone of icy needles. Then the silhouette flew at him, dissolving as it shot forward, again forming itself into a snowstorm of ashes and embers that came to terrible life as they touched his skin... Sweeney's eyes grew wide with terror and he tried to move, but his feet were rooted to the ground. The smoke surrounded him and his was burning, the agony of fire eating at every particle of his body...

But then a coolness cut through the fire, a soft hand smoothing back his hair and chasing the fire away.

"Lucy..." he moaned, and the coolness retracted, leaving him to burn.

_Nellie_

Nellie saw the dream get worse, Sweeney's cries becoming more coherent. Unable to bear it anymore, she stepped to his bedside and brushed sweaty strands of hair from his forehead. He quieted, sighing out a name. But it wasn't hers.

"Lucy..." he said softly, and Nellie snatched back her hand. Immediately, Sweeney seemed to be sucked back into the dream, but Nellie ignored him this time. How could he do that to her! Lucy. Would Sweeney ever let go of that insipid little nit? Nellie let her form dissolve into the air and softly began to cry.

"Hush, now, dearrrrr," whispered the Voice.

"Leave me alone," Nellie replied, her own voice broken. She could feel the Voice's displeasure, but she ignored it. "Go away."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

_Nellie_

Thanks to her Voice, Nellie was now madder than ever at Sweeney. She spent the rest of her night watching him toss around on his bed while she plotted. A positively evil smile spread across her face at half-past three. This would be fun.

She couldn't help noticing how he still curled himself around the empty side of the bed where Lucy must have slept. That certainly didn't help.

_Sweeney_

Sweeney woke at dawn, feeling as though he hadn't slept at all. All night, dreams had tormented him mercilessly. But now it was day, and he pushed these nighttime visions forcefully from his head. He didn't have time for those irrational things that only belonged in the shadowy realm of dreams.

But these irrational things had different plans. He flipped the Open/Closed sign briskly as London began to stir, then turned to face his barber shop. Something flickered in the corner of his eye and he pivoted slowly, dread setting off a curious fluttering sensation in his abdomen...but there was nothing there. He shook his head a little, telling himself that he was only tired, it was nothing. Nothing at all.

The door tinkled cheerily and Sweeney tried to force a smile, or at least something other than the look of trepidation that haunted his features. He didn't think he was very successful.

"How may I help you, sir?" It was a young man, with an eager, puppy-dog look that reminded him strongly of Anthony. Vaguely, Sweeney wondered if this was another one of his ghosts, until the young man introduced himself as Lewis. He was proposing to his beloved that day, and wanted to look the part.

"And who is the young lady?" Sweeney asked as he spread the lather across Lewis's face and neck.

"Marjorie," said Lewis dreamily. Sweeney noted how his eyes softened and a slight smile curved his lips when he spoke the name. "But my pet name for her is Magnolia. Her skin is so pale, the exact color of a magnolia petal. It makes her hair look even blacker than it already is, and her eyes look like chocolates." Lewis laughed a little, his eyes still hazed with love. "Do I sound stupid?"

_Yes,_ Sweeney thought, but didn't say. "No, just lovestruck. Have you got a place all picked out for you two to stay?" _Why am I still talking? _Sweeney finished shaving him and began to dab cologne around his jawbones.

"No, actually," Lewis said sheepishly.

Sweeney froze as Nellie's shape materialized next to him. She leaned forward, her auburn curls gently brushing his cheek and sending a strange little electric shock through him.

"Rent out my old rooms to 'im," she whispered.

"What? Why?" Lewis, assuming Sweeney was speaking to him, blushed harder.

"Dunno. Just haven't thought that far ahead, I guess," he said, while Nellie insisted, "Because I said so!"

"All right!" he said impatiently, slightly afraid of what Nellie's phantom might do to him if he refused. Then, to a confused Lewis, "I have a few rooms downstairs. You could move in there." Lewis grinned happily.

"How much?" he asked, causing Sweeney to look at Nellie, a sarcastic question on his face.

"Five pounds," she said.

"Ten pounds," Sweeney proclaimed. Lewis assented eagerly while Nellie's face turned sour. Sweeney was hard-pressed not to stick his tongue out at her like a child. He finished his work in silence, broken only by Lewis's cheery humming.

As soon as the door swung shut, Sweeney whirled to face Nellie. She was grinning triumphantly.

"What was that for?" he roared. Nellie shrugged blithely.

"One of my whims?"

"Well, I'll tell you what you can do with your whims-" he started, then stopped abruptly as Toby walked in with a broom. If he noticed the outburst, he didn't comment. Just mad old Mister T talking to himself again. He left as silently as he'd come.

What wouldn't Sweeney do to get rid of that bloody boy...

"Dunno why yer complainin', darlin', I jus' got you ten pounds a week," Nellie said, picking up where they left off.

"You know very well why I'm complaining! I hate people! I just got rid of--" He stopped abruptly, neck flushing, while Nellie admirably glossed over that fact that he had been about yo say "just got rid of you."

"Dear, you hate just about anythin'. Nothin' I can do about that." With that, she disappeared, effectively closing the conversation.

"Ahhh!" Sweeney yelled in frustration, kicking angrily at his chair. This action only served to anger him more, plus give him a sharp pain in his toe. Again, the room trembled as if an invisible presence were laughing at him.

"God, woman, do you ever shut up?" he yelled, kicking the wall this time.

_Nellie_

Nellie watched Sweeney's frustration with silent amusement. Thankfully, her Voice remained quiet for the moment, leaving her to wonder about Marjorie. The real reason she had wanted Lewis to bring her here.

About seventeen, eighteen years ago, Nellie had been particularly angry with Albert's lack of ardor and had caught the eye of a foreign stranger who frequented her pie shop. One thing had led to another, and soon Nellie was left with nothing but a pregnancy, a dead husband, and a vanished lover.

But she remembered that baby girl. A more beautiful illegitimate child the world had never seen, with magnolia-pale skin and raven hair that mirrored her daddy's. She's had chocolate eyes that melted whenever she smiled. Just as Lewis had described. And Nellie had dared to hope that somehow, Lewis's Marjorie was her little Marjorie too.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

The days passed slowly, tortuously, until Sweeney was almost welcoming the arrival of Lewis and Marjorie, just for a little excitement. The random appearances of Mrs. Lovett hardly fazed him anymore, he had come to terms with his insanity. It was hardly unexpected, given his former line of work. Then again, she hadn't done anything particularly nasty lately. Most of the time, she just darted in and out of his vision, more like a shadow than anything else. Was she planning something? He sincerely hoped not, but that was probably too much optimism on his part.

Sweeney massaged his temples wearily as he paced the small room. Lewis was supposed to be here soon, where was the brat? He glanced out the window, and there he was, alone, strangely, but there was probably some explanation for that. He plodded downstairs wearily to meet the overeager boy.

Lewis was very different from the last time Sweeney had seen him. His face was rough and circles had formed under his red-rimmed eyes. As Sweeney opened the door, they brimmed over with tears.

"Mr. Todd, I won't be needing those rooms," he said, a hangdog look replacing the puppy one.

"Why?" said Sweeney in a bored tone.

"Marjorie...she's..." His voice dissolved in a storm of tears as Lewis clutched hold of the door frame to keep himself upright. Sweeney sighed and leaned against the booth near the door, waiting for his answer. "She's dead. She was hit by a carriage three days ago." Sweeney heard a sharp intake of breath beside him and then footsteps running up the stairs.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said in a monotone. He knew he should probably offer the boy a glass of gin or something, but he didn't feel like making conversation. So he just shut the door in Lewis's face.

_Nellie_

Nellie ran up the stairs, trying to keep her sobs inside until she was alone. The minute she reached her old bedroom, she collapsed in a heap of silver and black on her bed, crying like she never had before. She heard the door shut and a brief flash of disapproval crossed her mind, but it was soon lost in tears.

"Whatever is the matter?" soothed her Voice. "Were you really that desperate for company?" Nellie mumbled something unintelligible, but it sounded rather insulting. The Voice retracted in a cloud of displeasure.

_Sweeney_

Sweeney heard Nellie crying, but he couldn't imagine why. Was she really that sensitive? Oh, well. It wasn't his problem. He pulled on his leather coat and headed out for a meat pie at Mrs. Mooney's. His own attempts at cooking had been disastrous.

A little ways down the street, he realized that Nellie had followed him. She was a mess, similar to Lewis, actually.

"What is it now?" he sighed exasperatedly from the corner of his mouth. She hissed a couple of choice phrases at him. "What did I do?"

"You don't know who Marjorie is, do you?" she said, even as she thought, _Well, how could he? _I_ don't even know for sure... _He looked utterly nonplussed.

"No..." She slapped him with an insubstantial hand. Far from hurting, it merely gave the impression that Sweeney had just stuck his face in a bucket of ice water.

"She was _my daughter._" Sweeney stopped. That was unexpected. But in a way, it made sense. That was why she'd wanted Lewis to stay!

"How do you know? You've never even met the girl." She shrugged and studiously contemplated the ground.

"You have absolutely no idea, do you?" Sweeney said.

"I _do know!_ I think I would know my own daughter! But of course, you wouldn't know, would you? _Your_ daughter lives with a rapist! _Your _spouse killed herself! And you know what? _It's all your fault!"_

Nellie knew the minute those words had come out of her mouth that she had gone way too far. That was low, even for her, and she had just opened her mouth to apologize when Sweeney ripped his razor from the leather holster on his hip.

Nellie could have insulted him all day long and he wouldn't have cared. But nobody, _nobody_, could get away with blaming Lucy and Johanna on him. That was unthinkable, his breaking point.

So he screamed at her words the prison guards had used as they abused disorderly prisoners, screamed words he had learned from sailors on the voyage home, screamed words he had just learned from Nellie, words he made up on the spot even, all the while slashing his razor through what seemed to be empty space. Strangers shrieked and tumbled out of the way, bright red lines appearing on several bodies as they failed to get out of the way fast enough. Someone ran for the police, who came up from behind and seized his arms, hitting him roughly over the head, sending him spinning down into unconciousness.


	7. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Okay, surprisingly, I decided to continue this. Mostly because I'm at a dead end on all my other stories. . But anyway, if there's anyone still reading this... enjoy. :)**_

**Chapter Six**

Sweeney woke up with a nasty pain in his head, lying flat on his back on cold stone. Wet, warm blood was dripping into his face. He tried to wipe it away, only to discover that his arm was pinned to his side.

Glancing around, he realized that there wasn't much of his surroundings to take in. It was dark, that was the main thing. He was certain he was alone, no other breath but his stirred the air. Even Nellie was gone, she must be off sulking somewhere.

As he thought of Nellie, he remembered her accusations on the street and fiery anger surged up in him again. Instinctively, he reached for his razors- but his arm still wouldn't move and they seemed to be missing from his belt anyway.

A straitjacket, Sweeney realized. That was what was keeping his arms laced to his sides. So he must be in Bedlam.

At least he was alone. At least that witch of a baker wasn't still following him, talking incessantly. He could almost get used to this, the dark, the quiet... His revenge had been carried out, after all. What more was there? If it weren't for the straitjacket, and the loss of his razors, he wouldn't have even considered escape.

But as it was, Sweeney had to get out, if only to be reunited with him. They may have been finally, finally sleeping, but he didn't feel right without their cold silver presence on his belt.

His eyes were adjusting and he could make out the faint rectangular outline of a door. No windows anywhere in the room- the door was his only escape. Contracting his stomach muscles, he managed to sit up. A wave of dizziness sent fresh blood drizzling from his wound, red swimming before his eyes. It was only the strength against pain he had learned from prison that saved him from falling unconscious.

Even if he had been healthy, it would have been almost impossible to stand without the help of his arms. Sweeney scooted backwards until his back hit a wall and strained against it, trying to use its support to stand. He had managed to inch halfway up before losing his balance and sliding back to the floor.

He may have passed out for a few seconds, but the next thing he knew, he was no longer alone in the room.

_Nellie_

They'd taken him away _again._

If she'd had any sense, she would have hated him and let him rot. She wanted to hate him. The hate filled her heart and overflowed, but it wasn't for him.

"Give it up, darling, you've had your fun. He's gone now..." The whisper in her head, that little part that wasn't her, a parasite...

"I won't listen to you any longer," she hissed out loud, pressing her hands over her ears, though she knew the voice was inside her.

The Voice chuckled. "Oh yes you will..." it said, but hid away in the back corners of her mind- for the time being.

Nellie took a few hesitant steps along the sidewalk, in the same direction as Sweeney's captors. Why should she rescue him? He didn't care, why did she?

The answer wasn't very satisfying, but it was the truth. She'd always been lost to him, and it didn't matter what he did-- he threw her in an oven, for God's sake, let her burn to death!-- but she would always be lost to him.

_**Next we have the epic escape chapter ^^ hopefully they'll succeed... reviews are love, though I suppose I don't deserve it for leaving you guys so long. :)**_


	8. Chapter 7

After Nellie came to this depressing realization, her feet began carrying her faster and faster towards the looming asylum building. It made her shudder to even be near the place, but she was comforted by the fact that she was already dead and no one could see her but Sweeney anyway.

It was easy to disassemble herself and drift through the entryway, then on down the hallways, popping into each room to check for Sweeney.

It was a dim place, with large rooms housing thirty or more lunatics that seemed to be arranged by hair color and gender, an odd setup if you asked her. Past these rooms were solitary ones, tiny and absolutely bare with not a blanket to cut the chill. In most, there wasn't even a window. Other rooms were home to strange contraptions, all seemingly designed to cause pain in ways Nellie dared not think about.

But the labyrinthine hallways seemed to stretch on forever, and she still hadn't found Sweeney. Just wandering these corridors was enough to drive one into insanity!

"_Mr. Todd!"_ she yelled, her voice echoing back at her, even though she knew no one else could hear it. It was a strange thing, being invisible and inaudible. She had always defined herself by the people around her. Was she undefinable now?

Slipping through the next door with a growing desperation, she surprised herself when she nearly tripped over her barber.

_Sweeney_

As the tiny, insubstantial form of the baker appeared through the door, Sweeney cursed loudly. The last thing he needed was _her_ back again...

"Oh love, I'm so sorry 'bout those things I said to ya, I didn' mean 'em, really I didn'--"

Sweeney's head was already aching, but a fresh little pain came into his temples as Nellie began to speak at fifty words a second.

"Please. Be quiet," he said. Looking stricken, she pressed her lips together and began to wring her hands. Miraculously maintaining her silence, she knelt down beside Sweeney and he felt her small fingers begin to dart down the laces on the jacket.

Sweeney breathed a sigh of relief as his arms were freed, and unsteadily pushed himself up. Nellie came around behind him, holding her arms out as if she could catch him.

"I'm fine," he snapped. "Now I suppose you didn't think to get a key?"

"I'll be right back..." Nellie whispered, running back through the solid iron door.

The moment she was out of sight, Sweeney permitted himself to sit back down. Whatever he pretended, it really was doing a number on his head to stand. They'd hit him hard, it was worse then when he'd been arrested all those years ago.

A slight jangling of metal hitting metal warned him of Nellie's approach and he stood quickly-- too quickly, and nearly fell over again before he caught the wall for support.

The door swung open to reveal a beaming Nellie, motioning him quickly out. Despite himself, Sweeney felt a little thrill of triumph as he swept past her, walking as fast as his dizziness would allow down the bleak hallway.

"Are you sure you'll all right, dear?" Nellie said worriedly as he almost hit a wall on a badly timed turn. He just glared at her and kept walking.

"I need to find my razors. I didn't see where they put them, have you any idea, Mrs. Lovett?"

"That old bat Fogg mighta kept 'em..." she said uncertainly, looking more and more nervous the longer they stayed.

_**What do you think? I lost all the old chapters, I think I may have accidentally deleted them, so this story is going under a whole revamp. The Sweenett's going to be slower in coming, but more worth it when it does, and the whole story's going to end up longer. Reviews are appreciated ^^**_


	9. Chapter 8

_Sweeney_

Sweeney could see Nellie getting jumpier and jumpier as the moved along. She took short, twitchy steps and gasped at every little noise, clearly eager to leave this place.

He didn't know what she was worried about. She was already dead, not to mention invisible... it never occurred to him that for once she wasn't thinking of herself.

Glancing into one of the small barred windows, he determined that the room was full of blond women in various states of terror, and was about to move on, when a sunny little head in the back caught his eye.

He moved back to the window, taking a longer look. It couldn't be-- Lucy?

No, she was too young to be Lucy, but...

"Mr. T! Hide, now, someone's comin'!" She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him into a little alcove.

"Yes, sir, I take great pride in the 'air qual'ty of my children. We've got redheads 'ere... brunettes... ah, the blonds. My personal fav'rite, sir." A key turned in the lock and a greasy little man bowed in a taller one, dressed splendidly in blue silk. The tall man held out a gloved hand to stop him.

"Sir, I think now is the time to make my true intentions clear-"

"Ah, my dear Mr. Brown, I know just what you mean... Come in, come in, and choose your pleasure."

Nellie looked sick.

"Disgusting," she whispered. Sweeney shushed her.

"I won't come, I won't come! No!" A young girl's voice, hoarse with disuse, echoed from the blond room.

"You will come, girl, or I'll drive these scissors right through your addled little brains!"

"No! Help, help-" Her voice was cut off, as if someone had pressed a hand over her mouth, leaving only muffled screeches.

The tall man walked out first, then waited for Mr. Fogg, who had his arms clamped tightly around a struggling girl, bright yellow hair flying around her face as she thrashed.

"Mrs. Lovett- it's Johanna- I know it is!" Nellie flung out a hand to stop him, but too late... he had already thrown himself at Fogg.

"Get off her!" he roared, not caring that his razors were gone, not caring that his head was spinning, just wanting his beautiful daughter free of his arms.

Startled, the tall man whipped a pistol from his belt and took aim.

"Sir- sir, I shall have you arrested- stop this immediately!" Nellie's hands flew to her mouth and she screamed as a bullet left the pistol.

_Nellie_

Time seemed to slow as she helplessly watched a bullet speed at her dear beloved Sweeney... if she'd been alive, she would have thrown herself in front of it without hesitation. On instinct, she did, but of course the bullet just passed through her and on to Sweeney...

Time snapped back into place as scarlet blood erupted and a pain-filled scream ripped the air. But it wasn't Nellie's-- she was torn between overwhelming joy and horror as Mr. Fogg dropped the girl on the ground and Sweeney fell to his knees beside her, staining his shirt as he held her close.

"Sweeney!" she screamed. Fogg was advancing on him, trembling, his rusty scissors held high. The tall man had long since fled. Sweeney looked up and snatched the scissors from Fogg's grip, driving them into the asylum owner's heart with a yell of fury and grief. He fell to the ground, adding more blood to the mess as he died. Sweeney looked over to Nellie with desperate, mad eyes.

"Mrs. Lovett, it's Johanna... it's my daughter... My God, she looks just like Lucy... just like her..."

"Mr. T, I'm so sorry-" Nellie's voice broke as the tears started to come. "But love, we gotta go now. People'll be comin', someone will see you..." He seemed to wake up a little, kissing Johanna's face and laying her tenderly in the alcove where he had just been hiding.

"My razors," he said, groaning as he stood up and swayed dangerously. Nellie steadied him with a cold hand on his back. She didn't want to leave him any less than she wanted to stay in this dreadful place, but after all, she was safe here and it seemed the only way to get him out...

"Go on 'ome, love, take the back alleys an' side streets, keep yer 'ead down. I'll stay an' find yer razors." She tried not to think about how tiring it would be to keep her hands solid enough to carry the razors all the way home.

Sweeney nodded mutely, and took a few unsteady steps.

"You can make it, Mr. T," she whispered, giving him a strange, ghostly hug that mostly just made him feel cold. But it cleared his head, and he nodded to her again before making his way down the hallway.

_**Just to be clear, Anthony does not exist in this story, so Sweeney never knew where his daughter was after Turpin died. Let me know what you think :D**_


	10. Chapter 9

_Sweeney_

Sweeney managed to make it home without incident, even making the climb to his shop. Then, head spinning and little starbursts of pain breaking out across his vision, he collapsed into his barber chair and promptly lost consciousness.

_Nellie_

Nellie's fingers flew spasmodically through Fogg's many pockets, flickering in and out of existence. A sigh of relief left her mouth in a quick gasp as she discovered the dimly glowing blades of silver.

"Thank goodness," she whispered, cupping them carefully in her hands and rushing down the hall. 186 Fleet Street was... ten blocks away? Closing her eyes, Nellie said a quick prayer to whoever happened to be listening.

_Please let me make it there..._

Even in her hurry, Nellie paused once she was clear of the asylum to take in a deep breath of air. Though far from clean, it was at least free of the heavy scent of desperation and sour butterscotch candies.

No one seemed to notice the two silver barbering razors flying down the street, seemingly of their own volition, for which Nellie was grateful. Who knew what would become of the razors if someone saw.

Her hands were aching with effort, as if she was holding them in freezing water. She was sure the metal of the razors would be cold enough to burn by the time she got them back to Sweeney.

"Remind me why you're doing this again, dear?"

The Voice.

_I don't need this right now,_ she thought tightly.

"Well, it just seems a little odd to me that you would suffer for a man who killed you..."

_Shut up._

"He did, Nellie. That's one thing you can't lie to yourself about."

_He wasn't right in the head-_

"Is that an excuse for cold-blooded murder?"

Nellie squeezed her clouded brown eyes shut. The Voice was bringing up things she didn't want to think about, things she had forgotten in her mad desire to save Sweeney. Why _was_ she doing this? Little worms of doubt began to nestle in her head.

The razors clattered to the ground.

**_Sorry for the long wait and short length, dears. :) Enjoy!  
_**


	11. Chapter 10

_**Sweeney**_

Sweeney drifted through strange dreams, punctuated always by the slow, steady throb of his head. In and out weaved Lucy, Johanna... Mrs. Lovett...

_Lucy took his hand and her radiant smile put the sun to shame. Her eyes danced as she nursed Johanna, singing under her breath. Sweeney closed his eyes. He was happy. Turning from his desk, he smiled back at Lucy. But then Johanna started squalling loudly, and Lucy fell back in horror, her pink lips in a horrified O... Confused, Sweeney looked in the cracked mirror. He gasped. Blood dripped down from his hair, into his eyes, staining his shirt and covering his hands..._

_He was pacing back and forth beneath the huge window in his shop, ignoring Mrs. Lovett's soft knocks as she arrived with dinner. She entered anyway, as always, and set the tray on the floor... But as he glanced back, he saw tears boiling on her face as she screamed silently, engulfed in flames..._

_Johanna crumpled as a bullet ripped through her chest... Sweeney looked down and saw the smoking gun clutched in his own hand..._

_Shadows coalesced around him in Australia as his former self was scrubbed away..._

_Turpin laughed as he ravaged a terrified Lucy..._

_Johanna stared longingly out of a locked window, alone in a cage of damask..._

Sweeney jerked awake, breathing heavily and coated with sweat, early morning sunlight streaming through the window. His body convulsed in shivers of horror. He hardly noticed that the pain in his head had abated to a weak, dull pulse.

He pulled himself up and stood shakily. Where was Mrs. Lovett? There was a twinge of worry before he remembered that no one could see her, much less touch her.

_**Nellie**_

Nellie was utterly confused. Her mind felt about to explode out of her skull. On one side, she had the Voice's sibilant coercions; on the other, her own strange mixture of devotion and hatred towards Sweeney. Over it all was the sharp ache of her hands, still carrying the razors.

She would drift a little ways down the street, listening to her own passionate love, before she would be won over by one of the Voice's rationalizations and turn back.

"_Stop,_" she sobbed, collapsing against the wall of an alley. "_Stop_ talking to me! I love him, I don't care... you're just-- confusing me!"

_Stop acting like a child! You're blinded by your foolish love. The only reason you should have for going back is to give him back what he gave you!_

An image of Sweeney burning to ash sent a shock of horror through, underscored by the Voice's surge of triumph.

"Who are you? Why should I listen to you? All this time I've been letting you in my thoughts and you've never told me a thing about yourself! How do I know you're even real?!"

_Why Nellie dear, don't you remember me? I almost thought we could have had something, you and I... until that damnable barber destroyed me... but then he destroyed you, as well, and now we are together again!_

As the Voice let its hissing overtone slide away, revealing the silky tone of its true voice, Nellie suddenly saw the disgusting man as clear as day, smiling that chilling smile... eyes staring as if they could see right through her dress, right down to her skin...

"_YOU!_"

_Yes, dear... Judge Turpin._

_**Sorry for the long absence, dearies... been uninspired. Hope this makes up for it... we are nearing the end!**_


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